Extinguished
by certifiedfangirl67
Summary: Castiel has rediscovered an angel he worked very close with, but there's one major problem—she doesn't know who he is, nor does she remember anything about her angelic life. Castiel soon finds out the reason: her grace has been taken. It becomes his mission, along with the help of the Winchester brothers, to restore her grace, but the question remains—will she want it back?
1. Chapter One

**Extinguished**

**By certifiedfangirl67**

**This is my very first published fic, so I hope you all enjoy! Reviews are welcome, as well as ideas for future works. There are thirteen chapters and an epilogue, and most of the chapters are short. Thanks for reading!**

**Castiel has rediscovered an angel he worked very close with, but there's one major problem—she doesn't know who he is, nor does she remember anything about her angelic life. Castiel soon finds out the reason: her grace has been taken. It becomes his mission, along with the help of the Winchester brothers, to restore her grace, but the question remains—will she want it back? Set in a slight AU about mid-season nine.**

**Chapter One**

Castiel could sense that there was an angel somewhere on the university campus, but he could not pinpoint its exact location. Seated on a bench, he scanned the faces of the passing students and professors, searching for the tell-tale glow of a vessel's occupation. The bench shook under the weight of a young woman who seated herself behind Castiel. The headphones over her ears kept her withdrawn from the activities around her, so Castiel let her be and continued his search. He became aware of the presence growing stronger, but the more he felt it, the more he could tell that there was something off about it. The feeling was unsettling. He had to find this angel, and quickly. A voice over his shoulder pulled him away from his mission.

"Excuse me. Do you have a pencil? All I have with me are pens."

Castiel turned to the woman behind him, a student, judging by her laid-back appearance and the plaid backpack that her hands had disappeared into. He opened his mouth to respond, but his voice caught in his throat as his eyes rested on hers in recognition. He watched as her brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you okay?" she asked tentatively as she removed her headphones. Castiel blinked and lightly shook his head in an attempt to brush off the cacophony of thoughts flooding his mind.

"What are you doing here? What's happened to you?" he asked. The woman turned to face Castiel directly, placing her hand on the back of the bench as though the action would lend sense to his words.

"I'm sorry… Do I know you?"

His expression fell as the truth came into focus. "Oh, Leah," he whispered, reaching out his hand to stroke her cheek, "what have they done to you?"

The woman recoiled from the fingers reaching for her face and stood up from the bench. "How did you…? You know what? I—I have to go. Now. Sorry." She slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to leave.

"Leah, wait –"

She pivoted to face him again, retreating backwards. "Yeah, no, sorry, I'm—I'm late for class," she said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. She spun and walked away hurriedly, her gaze fixed on the sidewalk, but stopped short when Castiel suddenly appeared in front of her. She whipped her head around to look at the bench where she had left him standing, now vacant. She looked back to him, shaking with increased anxiety. "How did you…?" Her mouth opened and closed as she searched for the right words. Castiel held his hand up, trying to ease her tension.

"Please, don't be afraid. I can help you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come with me. I can take you somewhere safe."

The girl dropped her backpack to the ground, intending to run. She inhaled to let out a cry for help, but no sound could escape her throat before her breath was taken away by the intense sensation of being pulled through space. In what felt like a matter of seconds, she found herself stumbling on a road in the middle of the woods with the strange man at her side. Regaining her balance, she took in her surroundings, hardly daring to breathe. Once she had circled back around to Castiel, she was finally able to speak.

"What the hell was that? Where are we? What did you just do?"

"Please, be calm."

She stared at him incredulously. "Be calm? _Be calm?_ Are you _insane?_"

He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked intently into her eyes, trying to subdue her anxiety. "Listen, I will explain everything I can once I get you to a safe place. I'm not sure what they did to you, but I promise that I will do everything in my power to fix you, Leah."

She pushed his hands away in frustration. "What the hell are you talking about, 'fix me'? Who—who did what to me? And how the hell do you know my name?" She put her hands to her head and closed her eyes, feeling dizzy from the surge of adrenaline. "Oh, this is crazy," she whispered.

Castiel surveyed the woods surrounding them with growing concern. "Leah, please. We need to move."

"Move where? Where are you taking me?"

The sound of air blowing through a tunnel drew Castiel's attention to the sky. His expression turned to one of intense worry. He took Leah by the wrist and pulled her close to him, demanding her attention. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. Follow the road, that way," he instructed, pointing. "About a half-mile down you will see a door embedded on the hillside. Go there. That's where you'll find the Winchesters. They'll keep you safe."

She felt completely at a loss. "The Winchesters? What?"

"You need to go, now!"

"I don't—" The sound of wings interrupted her protest as the angels arrived—a trio of sharply dressed predators with a lock on their prey.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Castiel's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixing on the man in the middle of the group. "Jeremiah," he addressed him.

"Hello, Castiel. I had a feeling we'd be seeing you soon."

Leah's eyes flicked between each angel's face, trying to absorb the shock from their sudden appearance. Jeremiah motioned to her, "Looks like we picked the right bait."

"What have you done to her? Why is she without her grace?" Castiel's voice trembled with anger. Leah snapped out of her reverie.

"My—my what? What are you talking about?"

"We needed to borrow it for a while, to help us find you, Castiel," Jeremiah replied smoothly.

"How would it help-?" Castiel stopped short, his eyes widening in realization. "A tracking spell. You extracted her grace so you could use it to track her. You knew _I _would be searching for her after the fall."

"And imagine our surprise when poor, powerless Leah managed to travel hundreds of miles like _that_," said Jeremiah, snapping his fingers. "Of course, we didn't need to take _all_ of her grace in order for the spell to work," he continued. "No, but… well, we couldn't have her warning you about us, could we? As you know, the complete removal of an angel's grace means—"

"—the complete erasure of her memory," Castiel finished. His face fell as guilt began to creep in and weigh him down. "You took her entire life away, just to find me?" Jeremiah nodded smugly. Castiel took a step forward, trying to maintain his composure. "Fine. You have me. Now let her go."

"True, she's no longer of use to us. Adriel?" He motioned to the angel on his right. "Take care of that, would you?" Adriel smirked, drawing out her angel blade.

Castiel stood defensively in front of Leah, taking his own blade into his grip. "You will not harm her," he threatened. "Not anymore."

"Is that so?" Adriel teased. "Unlike you, Castiel, I follow my orders." She lunged toward Castiel. He dodged the blade and aimed a strike for her side. She cried out in pain as he made a deep cut across her abdomen. He turned to Leah and gave her a forceful shove.

"Go, now!" he commanded. Leah took off running in the direction Castiel had instructed her to go, breathing heavily with terror. Jeremiah, drawing his blade from concealment to assist Adriel, barked an order to the angel on his left.

"Vincent, after her!"

In a fraction of a second, Vincent disappeared from his position at Jeremiah's side and materialized just ahead of Leah, stopping her in her tracks. "Don't worry. I'll make this quick," he said as he removed his blade from inside his suit jacket. He gripped her arm, intending to plunge his blade through her heart, but she thrust herself backwards out of his grasp. Leah screamed in agony as his blade lodged itself in her right shoulder. The jerk of her body wrenched the weapon from his hand. She squeezed her eyes shut, reached up with her left hand and pulled the blade from her shoulder, grunting with effort. Vincent flew, reappearing behind her. He stretched his arms around her body, reaching for her hand to wrestle the blade away from her. She twisted her small frame in his embrace and struck. They shared an expression of shock, then Leah raised her arm to shield her eyes from the blinding light that emanated from Vincent's eyes, nose, and gaping mouth. He died screaming.

Leah reached down and removed the blade from his chest. She staggered backwards and cradled her wounded shoulder. Her head was spinning from fatigue and blood loss. She looked back to see Adriel lying dead as Castiel continued to battle with Jeremiah. With angel blade in hand, Leah resumed down the road as quickly as her feet could carry her. Soon, there was no sign of the scuffle behind her.

Her strength was weaning rapidly and her vision was beginning to blur as the surge of adrenaline wore off. Suddenly, a metallic glint called her attention to the hillside. She stopped, squinting as a large, rust-colored door came into focus. "Oh, thank God," she breathed. She stumbled to the door and leaned heavily against it; her shoulder was throbbing. She struck the door with the hilt of the angel blade with three determined knocks. Within moments, Leah could hear footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. There was a click, then the deafening sound of metal grinding on metal as the door slid open.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

She dropped the blade and collapsed into the arms of the tall, muscular man standing in the open doorway. "Whoa!" he uttered in surprise as he caught her. He studied her face for a moment, then scanned the rest of her body to assess any damage. He was adjusting her shirt to observe her stab wound when he heard a single, whispered word escape her lips.

"Winchester."

He raised his eyes to hers in confusion, but she had fallen into unconsciousness. Keeping one arm around her shoulders, he placed his other arm under her knees to lift her up and carry her into the bunker. He descended the stairs, calling to his brother for help. "Dean, get in here!"

"What is it, Sammy?" his brother asked, emerging from his bedroom. His face grew serious as he spotted the girl in Sam's arms. Dean pointed to the still figure and raised his eyebrows. "What is that?" He looked up at Sam, waiting for a response. Sam let out an impatient breath and spoke urgently.

"Just get the door and meet me in the infirmary."

Dean took the stairs two at a time and reached to slide the door closed, but before he pulled it shut, he noticed the shining silver blade that had dropped to the ground. He bent to retrieve it, studying the fresh blood stains. "Son of a bitch," he murmured, shaking his head. He stood up, wrenched the door into place and fastened the lock.

When Dean reached the infirmary, Sam had laid the girl out on the examination table and was gathering supplies to treat her wound. "Hey, looks like our guest had a run-in with some winged dicks," Dean said, tossing the angel blade onto the counter. Sam continued to retrieve medical supplies from the cupboards. His eyes flicked to Dean momentarily.

"How do you think she knew where to find us?"

"I don't know, man."

"I mean, I heard her, right before she passed out. She said 'Winchester.'"

"Well, if she was fighting off angels, chances are they might know we're here, too. We need to angel-proof this place, now."

"I'm a little busy, here, Dean," Sam said, holding up medical supplies to show his meaning. He placed the materials on a mobile tray and rolled it to the exam table.

Dean nodded. "Right, yeah. Good thing we just stocked up, huh?" Sam looked at him, unamused. "Okay, you take care of this, and I'll get to the angel proofing."

"Yeah," Sam replied, prepping an IV drip. Dean left the room as Sam inserted the needle into the girl's left forearm and secured it in place. He then held his hand close to her mouth and nose to assess her breathing. Convinced that it was stable, he donned latex gloves and picked up a pair of scissors from the supply tray. He cut open her shirt, working from the collar down to the end of the right sleeve, then down the side until he could peel the fabric away from the wounded area. After gently moving her bra strap aside, he cleaned the dried blood that surrounded the puncture, then threaded his curved needle and began to stitch.

He remained intensely focused, working slowly, methodically, making sure each stitch was positioned correctly and was secure. It wasn't until he heard a weak moan that Sam noticed the girl had regained consciousness. She grimaced in pain, flinching away from the needle. Sam looked down at her face. "Sorry. Sorry, just… try to stay still. I'm almost done." He finished his last two stitches, then tied off and clipped the thread. Using a wet cloth, he washed away any remaining blood, then dried the area to bandage it.

She winced as he pressed the bandage into place, her throat emitting a high-pitched squeak.

"There. Done. Now, try not to move, okay? I'll get you something for the pain." He went to the medicine cabinet and retrieved a bottle of morphine and a syringe.

"W—where's…" the girl tried to speak, but her throat had gone dry. She swallowed a few times, and Sam came closer in order to hear. "Where's that guy?" she whispered.

Sam shook his head. "Who?"

"The guy who was… who took me."

"Sorry, I don't know. It's just me and my brother, Dean, here."

She studied his face as he prepped the drug. "Winchester?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm Sam," he introduced, putting down the medicine bottle. "What's your name?"

"Leah." She winced again as her shoulder ached. Sam injected the morphine into her IV.

"There. That should help." He saw a tear fall from her eye as she let out a shaky breath. He set the empty syringe on the tray next to the table. "It's okay, Leah. Don't worry. You're safe here." He placed his hand on the top of her head in a comforting gesture. "Just rest for now, okay?" She made a slight motion with her head, nodding her assent, and soon was breathing deeply, overtaken by sleep.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Jeremiah was pinned to the ground, his weapon lying far out of reach. Castiel knelt on top of him with his blade poised to strike the angel's heart. "Do it, Castiel. You've killed so many of our kind, what's one more?" Jeremiah taunted. Castiel leaned closer until his face was mere inches from the monster.

"First, tell me what you've done with Leah's grace."

"We used it, I've told you," Jeremiah spat through his teeth.

Castiel rested the tip of his blade on Jeremiah's chest, threatening. "No, not all of it. Where is the rest?" Jeremiah stared back at Castiel, smirking in reply. Castiel tightened his grip on his angel blade and threw his clenched fist across Jeremiah's face. "_Where is it?_" he demanded.

The angel laughed. "Strike, Castiel. You will never get it. Your precious Leah will never remember you; never love you. To her, you'll just be the strange man who showed up one day, and made her life hell."

Castiel placed his mouth next to Jeremiah's ear, speaking quietly. "You know nothing of hell, brother." He raised the blade. "But you will." He plunged his blade into Jeremiah's chest and twisted. The angel exploded with light, leaving behind his empty vessel.

Castiel stood and disposed of the bodies with a snap of his fingers. He stashed his blade as he made his way to the bunker. He stopped outside the metal door and, sensing Dean's handiwork in angel-proofing, pulled out his flip phone and dialed.

"Cas?" Dean answered, "We got an angel problem."

"Not anymore. I took care of it. You can take down the sigils."

Dean's eyes circled the room, observing the spray paint still drying on the walls. "Aw, c'mon, man," he grumbled. He shook the paint can and moved to alter the sigils, effectively destroying them.

"Dean, please hurry. I need to see her."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm working on—wait," Dean paused, "Are you talking about the girl that Sam brought in here?"

"Yes. Please, I need in."

"Alright, just hang on a second!" Dean hung up his phone and finished painting over the warding symbols, then opened the door to let Castiel enter.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Sam has her in the infirmary. He's getting her cleaned up," Dean said, closing the door behind him. They descended the stairs and turned the corner to get to the infirmary. Sam had covered Leah with a blanket and was replacing the medical supplies in the cupboards when the men walked in. Castiel went to the girl and placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. His eyes scanned her face as a mixture of relief, sadness, and guilt flooded his mind. Dean moved to stand by Sam, his arms crossed.

"So, how is she?" he asked quietly.

Sam sighed. "She's stable. She took a stab to the shoulder; lost a lot of blood. I patched her up and gave her a good dose of morphine, so she should sleep for a while."

They turned to face Castiel and leaned against the counter. Dean addressed him. "Is there something you want to tell us about, Cas?"

"Can I have a moment? Please." He looked up briefly at the brothers. "I promise, I will explain everything."

Sam nodded. "Sure." He nudged Dean's arm and moved to leave. Dean gave Castiel a disapproving look before he followed behind Sam.

Castiel looked back to Leah. She seemed so fragile in this form, which only served to weigh him down with guilt even more. "It's all my fault, Leah." He took a shuddering breath, trying to hold back the tears that crept into his eyes. "It's my fault that you were cast from heaven; my fault that the others tortured you, used you to get to me, that you were nearly killed. All I seem to do is put you in danger, and I am so…" he paused to stroke her forehead and cheek, her face peaceful with sleep. He smiled sadly. "I know what you would say, though I've never been less deserving. How can you always be so forgiving of me?" Castiel blew out a tight-lipped breath and looked up to wipe his eyes before any moisture could escape them, then turned his gaze back to her face. "I swear to you, I will do whatever it takes to get your grace back." He bent down and kissed her forehead. "Sleep well, sister."


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Castiel found Sam and Dean waiting for him at the large wooden table in the main room of the bunker. He saw their expectant looks and rubbed his face in weariness before joining them. For a few moments, no one spoke, then Sam broke the tension. "So, will she be all right? Did you heal her?"

Castiel looked up with a helpless expression. "I can't."

Sam's face contorted in confusion. "What do you mean, you can't?"

"Many of my celestial gifts won't work on the fallen."

"So she's an angel?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded.

"But, I don't get it," Sam said, leaning forward over the table top. "You've used your powers on other angels who were cast out of heaven. What makes her different?"

"She wasn't just cast out. She lost her grace. To Heaven, a graceless angel is a fallen angel." He paused. "It was taken from her by Jeremiah. He is… _was_ the leader of a small faction of angels. He used a portion of her grace for a tracking spell," Castiel explained.

Dean was uneasy. "Why would the angels be interested in tracking her? Is she dangerous?"

"No, nothing like that," Castiel dismissed. "They used her as bait to find me. They knew that I would be looking for her. She's never been outside of heaven before." The boys sat with their hands folded on the table, waiting for him to continue. Castiel's eyes glazed over as his mind became lost in thought. Dean noticed him staring blankly at the floor.

"Cas?" he said, snapping the angel out of his trance. "Who is she?"

Castiel took a deep breath. "My companion."

Sam looked taken aback. "What, like, your wife?" he asked.

"Not exactly." Castiel sat up a bit straighter. "When our Father created us, he made us in pairs, to be partners in duty."

"And she's your partner," Sam reasoned, gesturing toward the infirmary. Castiel nodded, confirming the fact. "Well, why haven't you told us about her before?"

"Because I wanted to protect her from the dangers of earth. I asked her to stay in heaven and keep me posted on what was going on there while I was here with you."

"So, basically," Dean chimed in, "what you're saying is that you and her have some kind of special connection."

Castiel looked to Dean. "You don't understand; it's so much more than that. Leah has always been my voice of reason, even when I was being particularly prideful."

"Like when you decided to play God?" Dean gave him a hard look.

Castiel sighed, "Yes, Dean. Like then. She tried to talk me out of it, and I should have listened, but even after I had rebelled and devastated heaven, she was still so forgiving. She fought for me to be brought back after the Leviathan destroyed me." Castiel lowered his gaze, still wallowing in his shame. "I owe her everything, and I will stop at nothing to get her grace back."

Sam sat up. "But, Cas, I thought you said it was used for a spell."

"Not all of it. I have to find what remains and return it to her." Castiel looked between the two brothers, stressing the importance of the situation. "She will need to be kept somewhere safe while I search. Please understand, she is not in her right mind."

Dean leaned back, crossing his arms. "How do you mean?"

Castiel looked to him. "Do you remember Anna? When you first found her?" Dean and Sam nodded. "When an angel loses their grace, their memories of heaven are also taken and replaced with false memories of a life here on earth. When she wakes, she won't remember having been an angel—won't remember me." Castiel lifted his elbow to the table and rubbed his forehead, trying to rid his mind of the emotions that were on rampage so that he could focus on his next move.

Seeing Castiel's pained expression, Sam stood and walked over to the grieving angel and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You do what you've gotta do, Cas. She can stay here with us." Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, not overly comfortable with the idea, but didn't say anything.

Castiel took a deep breath to help calm his thoughts, then stood and faced Sam. "Thank you. I should begin searching immediately. I will return as soon as I can." He turned his head, letting his eyes linger on the sleeping form through the open infirmary door a moment longer before he left the building, slamming the heavy metal door shut behind him.

Sam turned to Dean, who still had a disapproving look aimed at him. He lifted his arms in surrender. "All right, let it out. What?"

Dean shrugged. "What do you mean? Sounds like you've got it all under control."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do, Dean? Patch her up, hand her some cash, tell her 'good luck' and then leave her on the street?"

"Don't even start that shit with me, Sam! Of course not. It would just be nice to be involved in the decision to play body guard to a girl we don't even know!"

Sam scoffed, "Isn't that kinda what we do?"

"It's a little different this time."

"How so?"

Dean raised his eyebrows and motioned toward the darkened doorway of the infirmary. "Did you miss the part where she's an ex-angel?"

"So? Cas said that her powers are gone, her memory wiped. She's practically human."

"Fine. You wanna keep her, then she's your responsibility." Dean roughly shoved himself back from the table, stood up and retrieved his green jacket.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes.

Dean fished his keys out of his pocket before heading to the garage. "Out," he replied, shutting the door behind him. Sam shook his head, knowing full well what that implied.

Sam went to check on the injured girl. Her breathing sounds were even, and when he placed two fingers under her jaw line to take her pulse, he noted that it was slow, but steady, merely an effect of the drug. Her IV was still dripping rhythmically and she had regained some color in her face. He lifted the bandage on her shoulder to check her stitches and, satisfied that they were holding well, replaced it with a clean one.

Exiting the room, he ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a tired breath; the night's events were catching up with him. He went to his bedroom down the hall, removed his over shirt and collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. Within minutes, he was snoring.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six  
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_Why's it so dark? Am I… in a hospital? It's cold enough… but, no, I don't hear any beeping machines. It's so quiet. Ugh, my arm itches, and my shoulder… oh god, my shoulder is killing me!_

Leah forced herself to sit up, letting the blanket fall to the floor, and every limb felt weighed down by some invisible force. She reached her hand up to rub her sore shoulder, but stopped when she felt a light tugging on her arm. She looked down and saw the medical tape holding her IV in place. Gingerly, she removed the needle and set it aside. She placed her palm over the bandage on her shoulder and moaned at the tidal wave of memories of the attack that suddenly seemed to hit her. As she lowered her hand, she noticed that her shirt had been cut, leaving her chest and purple bra exposed.

She slid to the floor, her toes curling as they made contact with the icy concrete. The dim light coming from the hallway brightened the room just enough that she could make out the drawers stacked against the wall. She walked over to the nearest set, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a white men's undershirt. "Better than nothing," she mumbled. She walked back to the examination table she had been lying on and tossed the shirt onto it. Using her good arm, she removed what was left of her bloodied tee and pulled on the white shirt. _Damn, this is harder than it looks. _She grimaced when she moved her bad shoulder in order to get her arms in the right holes. Thankfully, the shirt was a couple sizes too big, so it didn't exert too much pressure on her wound.

She retrieved her shoes from the countertop where someone had placed them and pulled them on, tucking the laces in rather than trying to tie them one-handed, then made her way to the illuminated room adjacent to the infirmary, taking in the enormous wooden table in the center. It was littered with books and papers, pencils, a ruler, and a couple of empty beer bottles. She scrunched her face at the mess before her and was about to turn away when some interesting doodles caught her eye. She moved closer to the table and saw several drawings laid out, all depicting either weird-looking creatures, monsters, or strange symbols and words. "What the hell?" she voiced aloud. She picked up a jar of thick red liquid and immediately slammed it back on the table when she realized what it was. "What kind of sick freaks…?"

Leah began to panic and desperately looked for a way out. She spotted the stairs leading up to the giant metal front door and ran up them as quietly as she could. Just before she turned the lever to open the door, she noticed the wires rigged to the rusting metal. Her eyes followed it to the alarm box placed just above and to the right of the door frame. "Damn," she muttered. She wasn't sure if there was anyone else in the cold, dark bunker, but she wasn't going to take the chance.

She descended the stairs and shuffled past the table and down the illuminated hallway, trying to find another exit. At the end of the hall was a large door, much larger than those that lined the wall before it. Seeing no triggers for an alarm, she tentatively swung the door open, and was surprised when the lights in the room automatically came on. She looked around, worried that someone had spotted her, but heard no new noises aside from the soft buzzing of the lights.

Climbing the short flight of stairs, Leah's jaw dropped at the sight of the rows of vintage automobiles lined up against each wall. They were truly things of beauty. _Hmm, must be rich,_ she thought. _This would be a great time to know how to hot-wire a car._ Her eyes found the switch that operated the massive garage door, and she hesitated briefly before pressing the large green button. There was a deafening roar as the door rose to the ceiling.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The night air was warm and comforting and she couldn't wait to get out of this strange place. She ran until her shoulder ached too badly from the jarring motion, then slowed to a walk. When she reached the crossroads, she stopped, unsure of which direction to go.

A quiet rumble sounded from her left, and she turned to see two small lights in the distance. As the lights got bigger, the rumble grew louder, until an old 1960s era black car pulled up in front of her. When the window rolled down, she was surprised to see a young man, probably in his early thirties, behind the wheel. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice full of concern. She was cautious to accept his offer. _Who's to say he's not another nut job? _He saw her hesitance, so he dug around in the glove compartment and produced his faux police badge. "It's okay, see? Officer Steve Perry, off-duty," he said with a small smile, hoping to comfort her a little. She nodded and climbed in the passenger side.

"Are you alright?" he questioned.

"I just need to get home. It's been a very, very bad day and I would like very much to just forget about it." She rubbed at her sore shoulder, wincing.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, already knowing the answer. She didn't meet his eyes when she mumbled something about being fine.

He put the car in gear and pulled away. _Sammy is definitely gonna hear about this later, _he grumbled to himself. He flipped on his turn signal and pulled out onto the main road.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name," he inquired casually.

"Leah. Leah Kirkman."

"So, Leah, where's home?"

"Omaha," she replied simply. He raised his eyebrows at this, though he shouldn't have been surprised. Cas could have picked her up anywhere.

"Nebraska, huh? It's a bit of a jog, but I can get you there." It was then that she realized she had no idea where she was.

"How _much _of a jog?" she asked tentatively.

"We're in Lebanon, Kansas, about four hours away." She let out a grunt of disbelief as she unconsciously put a hand to her growling stomach. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten anything.

Thankful for the excuse to stop somewhere, Dean offered to buy her a meal at the nearest late-night diner. At first she declined his offer, but at his insistence, she agreed. They drove the next few minutes to the diner in relative silence.

When they arrived, Dean escorted her inside and told the staff that he would pay for whatever she ordered before excusing himself to make a phone call and stepped back outside. Dean scrolled through the contacts in his cell phone until he reached "Sammy" and pressed the 'call' button. Leaning against the hood of his Impala, he waited for his brother to pick up.

It took Sam a few seconds to distinguish the sound of his ringing phone from the dream he'd been having. He reached out a tired hand, his limbs heavy from sleep, and squinted at the bright incoming caller ID that simply read "D." He pressed the green button and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered in a much deeper voice than normal, still coming out of his tired state.

"Heya, Sammy!" came Dean's falsely chipper reply.

Sam grunted and sat up, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, figuring his brother had spent too much money at the local bar again and that Chad, the bartender, had taken his keys away.

"What, Dean?" he groaned out.

"Oh, just wondering if you were missing a little something," Dean said as he watched Leah through the half-open blinds of the diner window.

Sam looked around his darkened room, confused. "I don't think so, why?"

"You sure? 'Cause I found something I'm pretty damn sure you were supposed to be watching, Sam. About five-two, a hundred and forty pounds, brown hair, brown eyes… any of this sound familiar to you?"

Sam was silent for a moment before it dawned on him. "Leah?" he asked as he hurried from his room to check the infirmary.

Dean grinned sarcastically, "Well, Sammy, you have officially won the 'World's Worst Babysitter' award."

Sam flipped on the light and took in the unoccupied room. "But, how did she—"

"It doesn't matter how she got out, Sam!" Dean cut him off. "What matters is that she was out alone in the dead of night with who knows how many angelic asshats possibly on her ass!"

"Where are you? I can meet you and we'll figure out what to do."

Dean shook his head, "No, not tonight. She's freaked out enough; I don't want to freak her out more. Told her I was a cop and that I'd take her home, but I'm getting her some food now and I'm gonna try and get her to stick around for the night. We can figure out what to do in the morning, if Cas isn't back by then."

Sam nodded, picking up on the irritation in his brother's voice. "Sure, Dean. Call me if something comes up."

"Mhmm," Dean mumbled as he disconnected the call. He opened the door to the diner, the bells hanging over the door introducing his entrance, and put on his best friendly face as he slid into the booth to sit opposite the weary girl. He could tell that it was only her hunger that kept her awake for the moment, as he had been in her place several times before.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Leah placed an order for the midnight special, grateful that the officer offered to buy her food, but not wanting to break his wallet, either. After the waitress tucked away her order pad and walked back to the kitchen, Leah found herself unable to take her eyes off the man who had, in a sense, rescued her. She watched as he spoke to someone over the phone, unsure if his expression was amused or annoyed, and gave a small wave when he looked back at her.

Her attention was refocused when the waitress returned with a glass of ice water, then walked away again. "Thanks," Leah said quietly before taking a few sips. She used her napkin to wipe off the condensation on the outside of the glass, then held the makeshift ice pack to the swollen area where the stitches were placed. She softly hummed in relief.

When a jingling sounded from the doorway, she lowered the glass, not wanting to draw the officer's attention to her injury. The skin around her stitches tingled as it heated up again, and it took most of her effort not to reach up and scratch at it. Moments after the officer slid into the booth, her stomach gave one last good rumble as she eyed her food being brought out from the kitchen. Thankfully, the officer ordered a cup of coffee to drink while she ate, helping to make the situation a little less awkward. She ate at a controlled pace, not wanting to appear too eager, while the officer nursed his coffee mug.

When the waitress came around offering dessert, he ordered himself a slice of cherry pie while Leah politely declined. She was already feeling the weight of the food in her stomach and she sat back, her hunger satisfied. However, without the food to distract her, she noticed that the numbness in her shoulder had dissipated and it was aching again. As the officer dug into his pie, she nonchalantly lifted her glass of ice water to her lips, took a sip, then rested it on her sore stitches, hoping the officer wouldn't notice. Of course, no such luck. He could read the discomfort on her face.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, gesturing to her shoulder with the end of his fork.

"It's nothing. I'll be fine," she tried to assure him, but he wasn't buying it. He set his fork down on the now crumb-filled plate and slid it to the edge of the table, giving Leah his undivided attention.

"Looks like it hurts," he said with what he hoped was a serious, concerned expression. She ducked her head, looking down at the table, and mumbled something resembling "a little." Dean dropped some cash down on the table and slid out of the booth, motioning for her to follow. She got up, thanked the waitress, and followed him back out to the car.

He held the passenger side door open and waited for her to sit before asking, "You mind if I take a look at that?" She hesitated a moment before pulling the loose collar of her t-shirt aside, exposing the bandage over her wound. He carefully peeled back the gauze and winced at the sight of the stitches, trying his best to look sympathetic. He replaced the bandage and stood up, leaning with one hand on the door and the other on the top of the car.

"Something got you good! I tell you what, why don't we find a place to stop for the night? I've got a first-aid kit in the trunk. I can get a better look at that at the motel and you can tell me what the hell happened." She looked up into his eyes, thinking it over. "To be honest," he continued when she didn't respond, "I'm going on about thirty-six hours of daylight here, and you look like you could use some rest yourself. Let's call it a night, get some shut-eye, and I'll get you home first thing tomorrow."

She couldn't explain it, but for some reason she trusted this man. After all, he was a cop, had just bought her a good meal, and now was offering to put her up in a motel for the night. She nodded up at him, feeling slightly relieved. He tapped the roof of the car.

"Alright, let's get outta here."

He shut her door, walked around and climbed in the driver's seat, and within seconds they were on the road again in search of the nearest motel.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Leah was still a little tense and unsure when Dean returned from the lobby with only one room key, but she relaxed when she saw that the room housed two separate beds, one for him and one for her. Dean automatically threw his jacket down on the bed nearest to the door, since this was the bed he always occupied when he was on the road with Sam, before turning back to retrieve his duffel bag and the first-aid kit from the Impala. Leah sat on the empty bed, watching him as he went to the bathroom to wash his hands and fill a plastic cup with water.

He dug around in his duffel and produced a small bottle of Tylenol, then handed her the cup and shook a couple of the small white pills into his hand and held them out to her. "Here, take these. It's not much, but it'll help." She accepted the medication, swallowed it down with a generous gulp of water, then set the cup on the nightstand between the beds and flipped on the lamp.

Dean unzipped the first-aid kit and pulled out fresh gauze, medical tape, and some antiseptic ointment. Leah blew out a slow, tight-lipped breath and closed her eyes, willing her nerves to settle. "Hanging in there, Leah?" Dean asked, stealing a brief glance at her face before he shifted her collar aside to observe her wound again. She winced and nodded as he gently pulled the bandage completely off and nudged the area around her stitches a bit.

"Yeah," she breathed out, keeping her eyes closed, "it's just been a really, really weird day."

"You wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head. "It'll sound crazy."

He huffed out a quiet laugh. "Try me."

Before she knew it, Leah found herself telling the kind officer _everything_; how she had no idea how she ended up in Kansas, that she was attacked by a man in a business suit and was told to find "someone named Winchester," who had taken her in and fixed her up, but turned out to be "a complete nut job," so she ran and, well, he knew the rest.

"Wow," Dean said with a teasing smile as he dabbed some of the antiseptic gel over her stitches, "that does sound crazy. But you know something? I've heard weirder." She gave him a disbelieving look as he lightly pressed a clean bandage on her shoulder. He grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, gathered up some ice from the mini-fridge into it and held the bundle to the swollen area. "Keep that on there for a while," he instructed, and she reached up to obey.

He took some clothes out of his duffel, emptied his pockets onto the nightstand, and turned back to her. "You gonna be okay for a few minutes if I take a shower?" he asked, hoping the hot water would help ease his caring, but irritated demeanor enough that he could get a few hours' sleep.

She nodded. "Yeah, um, thanks."

Once she heard the water running, Leah took a moment to observe the cozy motel room. It looked like it hadn't been redecorated since the seventies, but still felt so welcoming. She leaned to the side, ready to lie down, but before her head could hit the pillow, a golden glint caught her eye. She turned her head, trying to get a better look. It was coming from the officer's duffel bag. She sat back up, curious, and crossed to the other bed to find out what the shiny object was.

She reached into the bag and pulled out his police badge. "Officer Steve Perry, Kansas Police Department," she read aloud to herself. She was about to toss the badge back into the bag when her gaze froze on another curious item. Slowly, she lifted the wallet-size object and stared at the same photo of the man on the police badge, only this one read "Agent Stark, FBI."

"What the hell?" she whispered as her forehead creased in confusion. Holding the two badges in one hand, she reached in the bag and discovered a third, fourth, and fifth piece of identification, all with the same photo, each with a different name assigned to it. _Oh my god, _she thought, dropping the IDs on the bed and turning to look at the closed bathroom door. _Who _are _you?_

Any tiredness she had felt was gone with this new surge of adrenaline. She knew she couldn't get far on foot, so she went with the first idea that came to mind: she snatched up the keys to the Impala and hurried out the door, being careful to close it quietly so as not to alarm the man still inside. She tucked herself behind the wheel and tensed as the vehicle roared to life. In a huff, she backed out of the parking space, put the car in gear, and sped off toward the only place she wanted to be: home.

The rumble of the engine resonated throughout the motel room. Confused by the sound, Dean turned off the tap to get a better listen. "Leah?" he called out, then paused, waiting for a response that never came. _Please be asleep,_ he begged silently as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a clean white towel around his waist. He entered the now vacant room and spotted his IDs strewn over the bed. "Ah, shit," he muttered as he crossed the room to yank the door open.

"No… no, no, no," he repeated when he saw that his beloved Impala was gone. He went over to the nightstand with just a glimmer of hope that his keys would still be there and this was some kind of bad dream, and let out a string of curses when they were nowhere to be found. He quickly hauled some pants on before smashing the buttons on his phone to call Sam. He was pulling a t-shirt over his head when Sam answered on the third ring.

"_Hey, De-_"

"She took my car!"

"_What? What are you talking about?_"

"My car, Sam! The bitch took my car!" Dean spat. Sam could tell his brother was close to having a panic attack; the Impala was his baby.

"_Okay, just calm down._"

"I AM CALM!" Dean wheezed, trying to level out his lung spasms.

"_Breathe, dude,_" came the voice over the phone. Sam waited until he could hear more settled breath sounds through the receiver. "_Where are you?_"

"The Lighthouse Motel, just off the highway," Dean answered, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

"_Alright, I can be there in ten minutes. Just sit tight._" Sam reached for his jacket and searched for the keys to one of the vintage autos in the garage. "_Any idea where she would go?_"

"She said she lives in Omaha, and she was taken from her college campus. I'd say that's a good start." Dean hung up the phone angrily and paced by the door, waiting for his brother to arrive.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

Castiel landed smoothly on the hilltop and gazed at the dimly lit office building that housed Jeremiah's headquarters. The news of the angel's fate had travelled quickly across "angel radio," and many of his loyalists now feared Castiel's wrath. This worked to his advantage as many of those he caught up with were persuaded to give him the information he so desperately sought. Everything led him to this lone office building.

He approached the door cautiously, sensing a presence within. The entranceway was long and dark, and at the end of the hall sat a wooden, oval-shaped receptionist's desk. Seated behind the desk was a young man in a sleek black business suit. He looked up from his task when he heard footsteps approach and leaned back in his chair, frowning.

"I wondered how long it would take you to find us here, Castiel," the man said in an almost bored tone.

"Nathanael," Castiel greeted, trying to maintain a calm composure.

"I know what you're looking for, but…" Nathanael paused, pulling a falsely apologetic expression, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news. It's not here."

Castiel silently studied his brother's face, tracing the lines of deception with his eyes. "Please do not make this difficult, brother. I do not wish to harm you."

"Don't you?" the angel leaned in, pounding the desk to emphasize his words. "Have you heard their cries, Castiel? Their _screams_? Our people are in _agony_, and it all boils down to that _bastard_, Metatron, and _you_."

"Brother, please. Metatron deceived me. I was unaware of his true inten—"

"Enough, Castiel! I've heard the lies. I know the story, and now, you're going to suffer," Nathanael said coldly, drawing out his angel blade, "along with the rest of us."

Castiel manifested his own angel blade in his hand and took a defensive stance. "Please," he tried again, "just tell me what Jeremiah has done with it and I will go peacefully."

Nathanael leapt over the desk and charged Castiel, a look of pure hatred emblazoned on his face. Cas only raised his blade in defense; he'd had enough angelic blood and grace spilled by his hand. His brother proved to have great skill with a blade, and Cas indeed suffered many deep gashes and felt bruises forming before he managed to overpower Nathanael. Within seconds, his opponent had been disarmed and fell into a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Castiel took a moment to catch his breath and heal his wounds enough that he could move forward. Ever since he entered the building, he had been feeling a powerful force trying to push him away. This was enough for him to believe that he was very close to what he was looking for, and as he made his way down the hall, the force became stronger. He began to feel ill, but he was willing to face any consequence if it meant he could save Leah. He stopped in front of the foggy glass doors that concealed Jeremiah's personal office, reached for the handle with a shaky, sweaty palm, and slowly pushed the door open.

His eyes immediately went to the object that rested atop Jeremiah's desk. The blue glowing symbols that covered the entire surface of the box lent an explanation to what was affecting Castiel's health: it was warded specifically against him. _Please let that be it,_ he begged of no one in particular. He removed his trench coat, threw it over the box, and wrapped it as tightly and thickly as possible.

The box seemed to grow heavier the longer he held it; there was no way he would be able to fly it back to the bunker himself. Castiel hailed a cab to take him to the nearest bus station, where he bought a ticket back to Kansas, as close to the bunker as he could get. Thankfully, the bus ride would only take a couple of hours, and there were few passengers to worry over his ill appearance. From the bus station in Kansas, he took another cab to within a mile of the bunker, paid and thanked the driver, and stumbled along the rest of the way to the concrete fortress.

By the time he made it through the door, he was incredibly pale and sweating profusely. He locked the box safely away in one of the cupboards in the kitchen before collapsing into the nearest chair, breathing heavily. After taking a few moments to compose himself, Castiel took a knife and made a cut across his forearm. Using his own blood, he drew a sigil over the cupboard door that would conceal any power within. Upon completing the symbol, he immediately felt relief as the burden of the wards was lifted from him.

Now that his strength was returning to normal, he realized just how quiet the bunker was. Figuring that the boys must have gone to bed, he looked toward the infirmary and was surprised to see the light on. He stepped silently to the open door and, upon finding the examination table empty, called out softly to see if the girl was nearby.

"Leah?" No response. Castiel had the feeling that something was definitely off. He hurried to Sam's closed bedroom and knocked.

"Sam?" Again, there was no response. He eased the door open and saw that the room was vacant. "Dean?" he called out as he went to the other brother's room and found it also empty. _Where could they have gone? Why did they leave?_ Trying not to panic, Castiel pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dean's number.

It only rang once before Dean greeted him angrily, "Cas, if we find your girlfriend, I'm gonna break her legs!"

"Leah's missing?" Castiel asked, brushing off Dean's use of the term "girlfriend" for the moment.

"She took off, in _my _car! I swear, if anything happens to my car, I'm takin' it outta your ass!" Castiel sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue.

"Where are you?" Dean located the nearest mile-marker and informed the angel, who appeared in the back seat mere seconds later. "Are you following her?" he asked as he closed his flip phone.

"Not sure," Sam replied calmly, knowing Dean wasn't up for talking right then. "You found her in Omaha, so we figured we'd start looking there."

Castiel let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and nodded, then leaned back in the seat, physically and emotionally exhausted. They rode the next several miles in uncomfortable silence.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

Leah drove straight through the few hours home, eager to get somewhere safe and comfortably familiar. She pulled into a parking space in front of her apartment building, turned the key to the "off" position, and then sat back in the seat wide-eyed. "What the hell did I just do?" She cursed as she ripped the keys from the ignition, threw open the door and stepped out of the car. She cautiously looked around to make sure no one was following her into the building before reaching into her pocket in search of her apartment key. "Dammit!" she whispered sharply when she remembered that all of her personal belongings were in her backpack—on the college campus.

When she got to her door, she felt along the top of the door frame for her spare key, shoved it roughly into the lock and clambered through the doorway. After making sure the door was securely bolted behind her, Leah collapsed into her glider chair, completely drained of energy. She grunted and winced when she landed hard on her injured shoulder and reached up a hand to soothe it. She stood from the chair and made quick work of finding some Tylenol—how she wished she had something stronger—and a disposable ice pack to rest on her sore spot. She relaxed back into the chair and fell asleep within minutes.

The boys pulled into town with a fidgety Castiel tagging along in the back seat. They located a motel near the university, paid for a room, and set up a game plan. They would wait out the few hours until the campus opened, catch a few winks in the meantime, then go posed as FBI agents to find any records the school has on Leah Kirkman, including where they might find her.

Leah sat up and rubbed her stiff neck, squinting her eyes at the bright sunlight seeping through her open blinds. The ice pack on her shoulder had long since lost its cool touch, so she threw it into the trash can next to her chair. Yawning, she ran a hand through her hair. _Ugh, I need a shower,_ she thought. She got up, grabbed a clean towel from the shelf and set to do just that. She was careful not to agitate her stitches too much as the hot water rained down on her tense muscles. _Much better_, she hummed, closing her eyes.

She only stepped out when the water refused to remain hot, wrapped herself in the towel, and went to her bedroom to dig out her favorite pair of sweats and a semi-loose fitting t-shirt. Her shoulder still ached, though not so bad as the night before. She took a couple Tylenol and spent a moment debating how best to get back to campus to retrieve her personal belongings, which included what she was missing most at the moment—her car. Sure, she did have access to the Impala she borrowed, but she had absolutely no desire to drive it again, mostly from the fear that its owner would catch up with her, but also because the old vehicle made her feel like she was driving a boat compared to her little VW bug.

With that option practically thrown out the window, that left calling a taxi or taking the city bus. A taxi would cost more, but a bus would likely jostle her shoulder wound more. She counted up the bills in her "secret stash" and decided that taking a taxi was the best way to go.

Castiel sat at the small table next to the window of the hotel room, watching the minutes tick by as the boys slept. He remained nearly motionless for a full two hours after sunlight crept into view, then decided they'd waited long enough and stood.

"Dean, Sam, we should be going." The only response he got was Dean's continued soft snoring. He sighed, sat back down and waited almost another hour before Sam shifted position on his bed. "Sam?" Castiel voiced, seizing the opportunity.

"Mmm… what?" the tired hunter grumbled into his pillow.

"We should be going soon," the angel repeated.

Sam grunted and pushed himself up into a sitting position, mouth opening wide in a deep yawn. Rubbing his eyes, he stood, dug out his monkey suit from his bag, and headed for the bathroom. When he emerged a few minutes later, he went to Dean's bed and shook his brother's shoulder roughly until he'd been roused. "C'mon, man, we gotta get going if we're gonna get this girl back."

Dean let out a groan that clearly let his brother know how he felt about the whole thing, then followed Sam's routine, coming out of the bathroom ten minutes later. He sifted through his fake IDs until he found the appropriate one. "Hello, Agent Stark," he muttered to himself, slipping the ID into his inside jacket pocket. "Alright, Agent Banner, Cas," Dean grinned sarcastically, "let's go find ourselves an ex-angel." _And get my Baby back._

Exiting the cab, Leah tipped the driver, then set about trying to remember where she must have left her backpack. She was certain that she had it when she left the man sitting at the bench, but by the time they'd landed on that road in the middle of nowhere, it was gone. She searched along the pathway from where the bench was located to the approximate place where she and the man had disappeared with no luck.

_Please don't tell me someone took it. There must still be _some _decent people in this world,_ she thought to herself as she headed toward the student services building. She froze when she saw the two suit-clad men emerge from the building together, one holding her plaid backpack at his side. "Shit," she promptly turned with the intention of getting away from them as quickly as possible, but before she could take one step, she found her way was blocked by the man in the trench coat. She barely had time to contort her face into a shocked expression before the man put two fingers to her forehead and everything went dark.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Castiel wandered the quiet campus while Dean and Sam played their FBI act in order to gain much needed information about this human version of his celestial partner. After a few minutes of walking aimlessly, he felt that familiar tugging sensation that had brought him to this very campus in the first place. "She's here," he voiced aloud, almost to reassure himself. He put all of his focus into finding the source of this energy, and soon found himself a mere few feet behind the girl. He was about to call out her name when he saw her halt with fear, and looked up to find the cause. It was clear, she had seen Sam and Dean and was in no hurry to become reacquainted with either of them.

Not wanting to frighten her more, he thought it would be best if they could all talk somewhere more private, and right at that moment, she turned to face him. He went with his first reflex and rendered her unconscious, then caught her limp form and lifted her into his arms. The brothers quickly approached, Sam asking what they were both thinking: "What the hell happened?"

"She was frightened. I thought it would be best if we spoke in a more private setting. Meet me at the car," Castiel spoke quickly before vanishing with the sleeping girl.

"Yeah, 'cause _that_ won't draw attention," Dean grumbled, looking around to make sure no one had witnessed Cas' disappearing act, then set off toward the car with Sam. By the time they got there, Castiel had already set the girl down in the back seat and was fidgeting nervously as he waited for the boys to approach.

"Okay, Cas, uh, why don't you head on back to the bunker, and Sam and I will meet you there after we find my car," Dean suggested.

"No," Castiel replied with his usual straight face. The boys looked at him, confused.

"No?" Sam asked.

Castiel sighed, hoping the brothers would understand. "I will not force her to stay. This must be her choice. We should speak with her privately."

"C'mon, Cas. Do you really think she's even gonna sit still long enough to maybe believe a word any of us says? Let's just get her back to the bunker and we can sort it out there," Dean tried to reason.

"No," Castiel repeated, "we should take her home."

Sam set the backpack on the trunk of the car and pulled out the papers he'd gotten from the student services office, looking for the girl's address. He saw no point in arguing with Cas. Drawing out his phone, he used the GPS to locate her apartment. "She lives about ten minutes from here. Let's just go," he said.

"Fine, whatever," Dean replied, waving an irritated hand. Sam scoffed at his brother's attitude.

"We have to get your car anyway, and it's probably there. It's not like we'd be going out of our way." Dean didn't respond, just pulled open the passenger-side door and climbed in. Sam sighed, gave Castiel the address to Leah's apartment, then joined his brother in the car and pulled out of the lot.

When they got to the five-story complex, Castiel was already holding the door open for them. Sam picked the girl up from her place in the back seat and moved to go inside, but Dean's eyes were solely locked on a certain black Impala that was a couple of spaces away.

"Baby, thank God," he said under his breath as he went to inspect his prized possession. "Did that ex-angel bitch hurt you?" He rubbed his elbow on the door frame, brushing off a spot of dirt. "It's okay; I won't let her touch you again." He looked up and saw Sam and Cas staring at him. "What?" he asked, annoyed. Sam just shook his head and carried the girl inside.

Castiel held open the door to apartment 24C, and Sam laid Leah down on the couch while Dean took a short look around, then seated himself on the glider where the girl had spent the previous night. Sam leaned against the wall behind Dean, bringing a hand up to scratch at the stubble along his jawline. Castiel pulled a folding chair up next to the couch, silently placed his hand on Leah's forehead for a few moments, then took it away and sat by her side, watching her as she took in a breath, her eyes slowly fluttering open.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

The first thing she saw was Castiel's brilliant blue eyes fixated on her. Leah gasped and sat up quickly on the end of the couch, wincing when she put too much strain on her injured shoulder. Castiel spoke softly, "Please, we only want to talk. We are not going to harm you."

_We?_ She finally took notice of the two other men in the room. The taller one, whom she only vaguely recognized, wore a sympathetic expression, while the other man's face was cold. Of course, she didn't really expect any different from him, not after she'd run off with his car. "Please, if this is about the car, I'm really, really sorry. Nothing happened, it's fine. The keys are over there," she gestured to the small table next to the door.

Dean was about to reply when Castiel cut him off. "Leah, we need to discuss something very important." She looked at him with a mixture of fear and fascination.

"You—you're the man who took me, before, who… what the hell are you?"

"My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord."

She looked at him in disbelief. "An angel?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You mean, like the dudes with wings and halos that show up in people's dreams, 'I-bring-you-glad-tidings-of-great-joy' angels?"

"Yes, though the angel you have just referred to was not me, but my brother, Gabriel."

_Okay, so he's completely nuts._ She looked back over to the brothers. "And I suppose you guys are angels, too?"

Dean attempted to choke back a laugh while Sam stammered, "No, no, we're not."

"They are human, but are faithful to our cause," Castiel explained.

"Uh huh, and you've been stalking me, _kidnapped_ me, all to tell me you're some 'angel of the Lord'? Why?"

Castiel sighed before continuing. "Because you are, too, Leah."

_Oh my god. There are crazy men in my apartment and they're trying to pull me into it. Oh god, what if I'm crazy?_ "Okay, please tell me this is all just some really weird, really _vivid_ dream and I'm going to wake up soon," Leah muttered, closing her eyes in an attempt to clear away the images of the strangers in the room, but Castiel's voice brought her back.

"Please," he begged, "let me show you."

Leah's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Show me?"

The angel reached out and took the girl's hand in his. She was tempted to pull out of his grasp, but the look on the man's face was so serious, almost sad, that she was curious of his intent.

Without warning, the room faded from her vision and she was soaring through scenes of places she could hardly describe, of odd-looking luminescent creatures that were both frightening and beautiful, of events that had happened in days long since passed that she had some sort of bird's-eye view of. The glowing forms were speaking to one another in a language she did not recognize, but was surprised to learn that she understood. Everything flashed by so quickly, then all at once it was completely dark and she could feel this intense pain, like she was being split open, and then it was over.

She tore her eyes open and jumped back in her seat, breathless. She didn't realize that she had cried out until she saw the concerned looks on the brother's faces and felt the rawness in her throat. Sam fetched a glass of water and handed it to Leah. She took it with a trembling hand and tried to gulp some down between breaths. Dean voiced what she could not. "Cas, what the hell was that?"

"Memories. My memories of her, of us, in heaven, watching over humanity. Humans are not meant to see these things," he explained, giving Leah an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. It went on longer than I intended."

"What was that at the end? God that hurt like a mother" she breathed out, taking another drink of water.

"That is how it felt when-" he paused, the memory painful for him as well, "when my grace was ripped out, similar to yours. My memories remained intact because the angel who stole my grace wished it so, and was powerful enough to grant it. This grace I have now is temporary."

"Okay, so, what? My entire life has been a lie? My parents, my brother, they're not even real? Is that what you're telling me?" Leah was on the edge of panic with just a shred of despair mixed in.

"Yes. You have a completely different life waiting for you to come back to it, Leah, and I can help you." Castiel couldn't help but smile a little. "I found it. I've found your grace." She stared at him blankly, unsure exactly what the significance of this was.

"Uh, thanks? I guess?" Castiel could see her lack of comprehension, but Dean answered for him.

"You get your grace back, you get your memories back, and all the fun mojo that goes with it."

"But," Leah started, searching for the right words, "but those aren't _my_ memories. Those are the memories of some thing that I don't even know about!" _Why am I even still talking to these guys? This is crazy!_

Castiel, hurt by this doubt, tried desperately to make her see. "But this _isn't _you! This is a false life that Jeremiah planted in your mind after he stole your grace. Your real life is here, with me. Please, let me help you."

Leah stood up, trying to appear intimidating, and motioned to the door. "You need to leave. All of you. Just take your car and leave, and let me just pretend that none of this ever happened."

Dean rose from the chair, grabbed his car keys from where Leah had indicated, and stood next to Sam, who had positioned himself by the door. Castiel gave her one last pleading look, but knew that she couldn't be moved. He nodded and stood.

"Of course. Ultimately, it is your choice. But, I do hope you'll reconsider." He lowered his head. "We won't come looking for you again. If you need us, just call out my name." With that, Castiel disappeared. The two men stood awkwardly at the door for a moment before they, too, left.

Leah collapsed back down onto the couch, still feeling completely overwhelmed. After a few minutes, she let the exhaustion consume her and fell into a deep sleep.


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Castiel had convinced Sam to do him one last favor regarding his ex-partner, and so, a few days later, Leah came home to find a package outside her door. There was no writing or postage on the outside, piquing her interest. She took the package inside, set it on her small table, and opened it cautiously. Inside was a beautifully ornate wooden box, covered in markings that looked completely foreign, yet oddly familiar. When she lifted the box completely from the packaging, she discovered a hand-written note underneath it.

She read the quick message, then dropped the slip of paper as she realized what the box supposedly contained. She couldn't help but crack the lid open just enough to see a sliver of light peeking through before setting it down, too. She backed up into her glider chair, sat, and stared pensively at the box for what seemed like hours constantly repeating those six little hand-written words in her mind:

"For when you want to remember."


End file.
